Old Cities and Abandoned Dreams
by TheEmberGirl
Summary: Now a successful lawyer in Dresden, Maria Beilschmidt still remembers her childhood in Australia, despite the people she'd rather forget. Sixteen years too late, she receives a letter from Arthur - her former best friend who'd never made any attempt to contact her beforehand. He has come to Germany to make amends, but she isn't sure if she wants to accept them. Mildura AU, part 2


**Cross-posted from ao3**

 **Here it finally is - the sequel to the fanfic I handed in for a grade. Because I just couldn't let this AU go...**

 **(Still written a like a piece for a literature class, but just monstrously long and with less surrealism elements)**

 **Oh and a shout-out to the friend who helped me out with how drunk people act; your knowledge was very helpful**

 **Set shortly after the first Mildura AU fic, during the 2007 Global Financial Crisis**

* * *

 **Old Cities and Abandoned Dreams**

Five o'clock in Dresden the baroque buildings of the historic city were bathed in late afternoon light. Everywhere on the streets, people milled from their offices to make their homewards commute. Among them was human rights lawyer Maria Beilschmidt. Having locked all her drawers and checked she had the files she needed, Maria shrugged on her coat and stepped outside into the cool September weather. She was leaving the office early, an increasingly rare incident with the ever more uncertain economy, but it had been an exhausting day and Maria decided she could finish the paperwork for her latest case at home. Heels clicking over the cobblestones, Maria let her mind wander as she followed the route she'd memorised long ago back to her apartment.

She remembered being twenty-one – a recent law graduate from one of Berlin's most prestigious universities, offered an internship at a practise in Dresden. Maria had weighed the odds and accepted, making the move between Berlin and Dresden with the support of her parents. Little had she known then that she would excel in her work, become a permanent employee and spend the next six years in this old city.

Keeping her pace, Maria continued on her way as her mind drifted back further into the memories she'd been revisiting ever more frequently in the last while.

Not many of her colleagues knew, but Maria had spent part of her childhood far away from the tightly packed streets of Dresden and even Berlin. For four years, she'd lived in a dusty country town in Australia, several oceans away from everyone she now knew. She'd climbed trees and waded in rivers, been sunburnt more times than she should have, and even recalled having seen farm animals up close at one point. Her clothes had always been torn, much to the frustration of her poor mother. She'd even had another suite of friends from there, but one in particular had been closer to her than anyone—

Maria forced her mind to return to the present. Whatever friends she'd had in Australia had surely forgotten about her by now. It had been sixteen years and she'd never had a word from any of them, especially not _him_. Maria clenched her fists within her coat pockets and moved her thoughts onto the case she was working on – if she worked through dinner, she'd be able to head to bed before eleven. Coming to a halt at an intersection, Maria heard someone call out her name in an impossibly familiar accent. _No!_ she told herself. _It's not him; he forgot about you a long time ago._ It was only a figment of her imagination, a result of letting herself dwell in the past for too long.

'Maria!' the same voice, with that unmistakeably odd mixture of a British and Australian accent called again. Giving in, Maria looked around, eyes widening as they focused on a man with dark blond hair on the street opposite her.

It was impossible, but yet here he was, after sixteen long years. Shock and disbelief gave way to anger, and Maria strode away across the road as the light turned green, leaving Arthur calling after her. Thoughts in turmoil, case all but forgotten, Maria walked the final streets to her apartment at a brisker pace than usual, twisting around every few minutes ensure she hadn't been followed. She collected her mail without a second glance, fumbling with her keys as her hands shook with suppressed rage. Only when she was inside, door locked behind her, heels kicked off, and everything she'd been carrying discarded on the already document covered couch, did Maria allow herself to collect her thoughts.

 _How dare he?_ Was the one thought that echoed continuously within her mind. After all this time, the seven years she'd spent trying to forget him, how dare he just appear like that? Sinking onto the carpet of her apartment, Maria finally let herself relive the memories she'd been trying to ignore.

Australia had been very different to Germany – a much hotter and drier country where summers burned with unrelenting heat. During her first scorching summer there, Maria had made friends with Arthur Kirkland – or rather, she'd thrown rocks at his window and demanded he be her friend. From then on they'd been close; sharing stories and secrets, avoiding Arthur's parents, defying everything their parents had told them not to do. Maria had rambled on as they sat beneath the tall, pale gum trees, speaking in mixtures of accented English and German that Arthur always patiently tried to understand. She'd taken that for granted until other children at school had made fun of the way she spoke, but even at seven, Maria had refused to be cowed, refused to cry and satisfy her tormentors. Instead she fought back, pushing and scratching when words failed her and Arthur didn't stop her in time.

But all of that patience and the fantastical tales Arthur had told Maria about the legendary king he'd been named for meant nothing when she left.

At eleven, Maria had been distraught when her parents informed her she would have to leave everyone she knew for the birthplace she could not remember. She knew nothing of the significance, of the Wall that had separated her family, all she knew comprised of a sleepy riverside town and its surrounding farmlands. So she'd sought out Arthur, expecting comfort, expecting patience, but all she'd received was silence.

Before her family left the small, country town of Mildura for the last time, Maria had left Arthur a letter; hastily written on a sheet of brown paper. The letter contained her grandmother's address and detailed her hopes that they would remain friends. _You are my best friend_ , she'd written, _please write to me and never forgot all the adventures we had_.

In her first year living at her grandmother's house in Berlin – so cold, so crowded, compared to what she'd become used to – Maria waited constantly for Arthur to reply to her, running outside to collect any post became a ritual, but there'd never been anything addressed to her.

As she grew older, Maria became more aware of how difficult international mail must have been to send, and how Arthur's father would never have allowed him to write to her. So she kept waiting; waiting for the day Arthur left home like all his brothers had had, no longer ruled by his parents, waiting for a reply she would never receive.

By the time she began university Maria had started giving up. Arthur had always told her he wanted to study at a university, and being two years older than her, he should have been well into whatever course he'd chosen had he done so. Maria stopped waiting during her last year of university, she had new friends, and even though the friendships weren't quite the same, she decided it was time to give up. Arthur had forgotten about her, decided it wasn't worth replying to years old letter by the time he'd gotten the freedom to do it. She'd expected to be forgotten by her other friends, by her teachers, but not by the one who'd been her best friend. So given the chance to move to Dresden, to start afresh, Maria had grasped it, and refused to look back.

And now here Arthur was – in the same city as her – and Maria wondered if she still cared enough about him to hate him. Clearly she did; the fury she still felt made it obvious there was no way she could treat his presence in Dresden with apathy.

An envelope resting on the briefcase she'd thrown haphazardly upon the couch caught Maria's eye, she'd assumed it was a bill when she first retrieved it from her mailbox, not having any reason to think otherwise. It had been redirected from her parents' address in Berlin – the house they'd inherited from her grandmother. Inside was a handwritten letter, dated a week and a half prior, and as she read it, Maria's rage began to subside. After sixteen years, Arthur had finally sent her a reply.

The letter was brief, infuriatingly so, documenting Arthur's recent unemployment and his impulsive decision to book a flight to Germany. Nowhere was there any apology for not having written earlier, despite him having mentioned he'd only just read her letter. Maria read the letter twice, then folded it back up and set it aside, too exhausted to feel any more emotion. Fixing herself a simple dinner, Maria spent the rest of her evening filling in legal paperwork, eventually making her way to bed just short of midnight.

By seven thirty in the morning, Maria was back in her office, she'd been awake for an hour and breakfasted on bread and coffee. The papers she'd meticulously filled the previous night were spread on the desk before her, ready to be filed, and yet another stack waiting to be sorted, but her thoughts kept returning to the letter she'd received. It was not enough, she decided, for her to forgive sixteen years of silence, but Arthur had at least made an effort, and seeing he had flown from halfway across the world to find her, she should at least hear him out in person. Having made a decision made it easier for Maria to concentrate, but just barely – the anticipation of what she could possibly have to say to her former best friend skimmed just beneath the forefront of her thoughts. Nevertheless, she managed to file the completed papers and begin work on the new ones, consulting her colleagues on varying part of the case that she felt required a second opinion. At five o'clock – important files locked away, and ones she'd deemed less important lining her briefcase, ready to be filled once she returned home – Maria was leaving early the second night in a row, earning her curious looks from her colleagues.

'I had something come up,' she told Anneliese, whose desk was closest to the door, but yet in earshot of everyone else in the office. 'But the necessary files will be completed by tomorrow.'

Anneliese nodded, waving Maria off and returning to the documents she was reading, and without a backwards glance to shake her resolve, Maria walked into the autumnal air.

There was a park near the intersection where Arthur had called to her the previous day, which Maria reached by five twenty one, from what she remembered of Arthur's character, he would attempt to look for her in the last place he'd seen her. The park was a small strip of empty space just outside of the inner city, at this time of the day it was completely empty, much to Maria's relief as she sat down upon the single bench among the scant trees. Five thirty came and went, and Maria began to question her decisions – by this time she should have been home, finishing the paperwork as she'd promised, and perhaps taking some time to call her parents – but here she was, sitting in a park, waiting for a former friend who'd given up on her once before. _Five forty five_ , she told herself – if Arthur did not arrive by then, she would return home and force him from her mind and memories once again.

Glancing at her watch at five forty one, Maria started as someone approaching from behind her spoke.

'Maria?' his tone was tentative, much different from the frantic calling from across the street the previous day.

Trying to remain as calm as possible, Maria braced herself and turned around, heart racing despite her efforts. She froze as she came face to face with Arthur, she hadn't realised he'd come this close to her.

'So it is you,' Arthur sounded relieved, but Maria was only half registering what he was saying, distracted by his close proximity. 'I was worried you were actually in Berlin, especially seeing you didn't respond yesterday.'

Arthur had grown into his features, Maria noted as she studied his face, he was more angular than he'd been as a young teenager, and his features were more in balance with each other. The freckles that dusted from the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks had faded, fainter than she'd ever seen them, even in the midst of winter.

'I wasn't sure if it was you either,' she found herself saying numbly, it had been a long time since she'd used English in casual conversation. Her words weren't entirely true, but there was nothing else she could think of to say. 'It's been a long time… We should talk.'

'Ah yes, but maybe elsewhere?'

Arthur had always been taller than her, but it was more obvious than ever as she stood.

'I know a café,' she said quickly, making up her mind she would rather deal with the situation in sobriety.

The café was one Maria frequented on weekends – the buzz that perpetually filled it helping to drive thoughts of work from her mind. That same buzz of chatter would serve to mask any tense conversation in strangely accented English.

'So why aren't you in Berlin?' the question was conversational, asked after they'd ordered their coffees, but Maria could tell Arthur had found something odd in the silence during their walk to café.

'Am I not allowed to leave there?' More anger than she'd intended to reveal coloured her voice, and Maria followed her rhetorical question with a sigh and an answer. 'I was offered a job based here.' She stated blandly.

'What was the job?' his tone as still conversational, but the look Arthur gave her was measured as he glanced from her suit to her sharply cut chin length hair to her briefcase.

'I work for a law firm,' Maria answered shortly. 'How about you? Did you ever go into journalism?'

Arthur looked surprised at her remembering this detail from his childhood.

'I did,' he admitted. 'But as you may already know; not anymore.' Arthur shrugged, and Maria felt a brief moment of sympathy for him.

'I received your letter,' she confirmed. 'If that's what you're asking. My parents still live in the house in Berlin. Why are you here then?' her tone was still too cool, but Maria didn't care.

'I didn't manage to book air tickets to Berlin, so I decided a connecting train from Dresden was my next best option. I was actually heading for the station yesterday when I saw you.' Arthur seemed more relaxed after hearing she'd read the letter.

'And so here we are,' Maria mused. She thanked the waiter who brought them their coffees and raised her cup to her lips, gingerly taking a sip of the scalding liquid. The coffee was strong with little sugar, just as she liked it.

'Is something wrong?' Arthur asked after blowing upon his own cup.

'Not at all,' Maria set down her cup in a decisive action. 'I just find it strange that you left everything behind to come here, and – as it would seem – with not much of a plan.'

'It wasn't hard,' Arthur assured her, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing as it seared his tongue. 'I'd lost my job, and you know I never had a great relationship with my parents, I didn't have any close friends in Melbourne, and I wasn't about to move back to Mildura. So I decided to come find you – after all, you were my first friend.'

At the smile he flashed her, so disarmingly full of warmth, lighting up his eyes, Maria almost caved, but a bitter taste that wasn't from the coffee filled her mouth. Arthur hadn't said it directly, but she was only his last resort.

'So after sixteen years, you still want to be friends?' Maria shook her head, unable to keep the incredulous tone from her voice. All the emotions she'd bottled up rose to the surface, and she continued. 'Did you know my ancestors once lived in East Prussia? Well a part of my family still lives where that used to be today, and they all speak Russian. My point is, Arthur, that things change – and right now I don't consider you to be a friend of mine.'

Her voice was cold, and bitterer than black coffee, but the tinges of hysteria rang sharply in her own ears and Maria felt the sob that threatened to spill out if she didn't control herself. So she took a breath, swallowed, and glared across the table at Arthur. He didn't reply, looking down at his coffee, giving it a stir and slowly taking a sip, cautious after having been burned. Carefully placing his cup back on the table, Arthur looked up, but didn't meet her eyes.

'You're not even going to give me a chance then?' he asked quietly, tone unfathomable.

'You had a chance when I left you that letter. You could have replied to me. Or at least _read_ it.' Maria fumed. 'It's been _sixteen years_ , Arthur, more than half my lifetime.'

'And so you're going to cut me out, just like that,' Arthur met her eyes now, gaze harsh and steely. 'I guess this is what they mean when they talk about German efficiency.'

Maria recoiled, remembering a similar string of words coming from the mouth an unshaven man whose breath had reeked of alcohol. Back then Arthur had rushed to defend her from his father, but now he was the one delivering the abuse. Seeing her reaction and realising what he'd said, Arthur's eyes widened and he reached a hand towards her.

'Maria, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that!' He spoke earnestly, but the damage had already been done.

Maria flinched from his touch, drawing her hand back.

'Yes,' she said, ignoring his apology. 'I guess it is.' Her mouth twisted into an acidic smile. 'You know, you've got quite the nice face – now that your eyebrows no longer take up half of it.'

Small satisfaction filled her as she saw hurt flicker across his expression – while her accent had been made fun of, Arthur had been picked on for the way he looked, and Maria had brought back the childhood insecurities.

'When did you get so mean?' the question was closed and defensive.

'I was always this mean,' Maria retorted, her anger far from diffused. 'You just never gave me a reason to turn on you before.'

'You're not the girl I was friends with,' Arthur declared. 'She was never like this!'

'Are you sure?' Maria demanded, tone filled with derisiveness. 'Because you're the one who came looking for me. Besides, I found out what _you_ were really like first!'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Arthur's jaw was set stubbornly, refusing to accept what she'd said.

'What kind of person doesn't reply to his _friend's_ letter for over a decade and then shows up expecting their friendship to remain the same?'

'I didn't want you to leave!'

'Do you think _I_ wanted to? Do you think I had a _choice_?'

Maria paused for breath, she'd allowed herself to become too carried away, too emotional, too unlike the way of her profession. She'd been too absorbed to notice how loud their voices had been raised, and now she could feel the gaze of strangers prickling on her skin.

'I need a drink,' she muttered to herself, foregoing all notions of sobriety.

'Let's go to a bar,' Arthur suggested quietly, also becoming aware of the stares they'd attracted. 'I'll pay for the drinks.'

Maria bit back a retort on the wisdom of doing just that while being unemployed, a wave of tiredness suddenly washing over her. Leaving a generous tip on the table, she nodded and stood up, leading the way to the nearest bar.

After ordering two of the strongest beers on the menu, Maria drank hers as soon as it was handed to her, without even bothering to look over at Arthur. It was past seven already and she should have been home, having dinner and finishing paperwork as she'd promised. Telling herself she would leave soon, Maria finished the beer and ordered another in the hopes it would wash away the bitter knot of emotions at the back of her throat. From the corner of her eye she saw Arthur turn his head towards her. Maria ignored him – he had no right to make any judgement of her.

'Maria,' he said hesitantly before she could begin to drink. Despite herself, Maria paused, glass raised halfway to her lips. 'Do you remember the time I accidentally scratched you while you were sunburnt?'

'No, I don't,' Maria lied stiffly as if the way Arthur responded with panic and concern wasn't one of her most vivid memories from her childhood.

'It left a scar on your cheek that took two months to fade,' he continued. Maria allowed herself a glance at him and saw Arthur had a faraway look in his eyes. 'I thought you'd be angry with me, but instead you used it as an excuse to play pirates until it disappeared.' He shook his head at the memory. 'Don't you remember?'

'Yes,' Maria answered, gritting her teeth as she caught onto the hidden meaning. _You weren't angry at me then, why are you angry at me now?_ 'But we aren't kids anymore.' She hoped that that would be enough to end the discussion, and called for another glass.

'What does that matter?' Arthur protested. 'We were friends for so long.'

'It's been longer since we stopped being friends,' Maria retorted scathingly, taking a gulp and relishing the strong taste of alcohol hitting her throat over the conversation she was having.

'Did that ever happen though?'

'It did.' Maria cut him short on his rhetoric. 'It happened when I realised you were going to reply.' She took another gulp to prevent herself from saying anything more.

'But I did—' Arthur realised from the look Maria shot him – raw and bitter – that protesting would have no avail. He gave a resigned sigh. 'And how long ago was that?'

'At least seven years,' Maria smiled with empty triumph as Arthur failed to respond. 'You only knew me for five.'

She drank more slowly in the silence that followed, torn between remaining in a sober state and drinking until she was numb. She had responsibilities, expectations to fulfil, but she found she was too filled with rage and hurt to care. _Hurt_. Under the effects of alcohol she had finally allowed herself to identify that feeling among her maelstrom of emotions. Arthur had hurt her, and Maria was not about to let him know that. They were both on their third drink by now – Arthur drinking steadily, seemingly lost in thought as, beside him, Maria ordered a fourth.

'What did you mean when said I had a nice face?' The question came so unexpectedly that Maria just blinked at him. 'Did you mean it?'

Maria avoided the question and drained her glass. She didn't quite know the answer and refused to think on it.

'Did you?' Arthur pressed on.

'I was serious about your eyebrows!' Maria snapped, twisting even further away from him, hoping to elicit a similar reaction to the one she'd received earlier in the afternoon. Anything would be better than relentless question on a subject she didn't want to broach.

'You know that's not what I meant,' the response wasn't what Maria had expected, and against her better judgment she turned to face Arthur. She found herself face to face with him, even closer than they had been earlier, looking each other in the eyes under the dim lighting of the bar. Before she lean back, turn away, Arthur reached over and gently brushed a strand of her hair from her face. 'It used to be a lot longer.' He murmured.

For a moment Maria froze, forgetting to breathe, and then the moment passed.

'Yes. And it was a nuisance to pin up for court.' She stated as a matter of fact, trying not to notice the shortness in her breath. She raised a hand to bat his away but paused as he spoke again.

'It's nice,' Arthur said as he dropped his hand.

'Your freckles have faded,' Maria found herself saying; mind muddied and tongue loosened by four glasses of beer. 'Is Melbourne colder than Mildura?'

'Just a bit,' Arthur answered after looking surprised. 'It can still get just as hot in summer, but there's more buildings, more shade. Not as many buildings as there are here though – this city is so much bigger, it's a wonder I managed to retrace my footsteps today.' He smiled self deprecatingly and for the first time that day, Maria smiled back.

'I miss those summers,' she admitted, lost in a haze of alcohol and nostalgia.

'So give me a chance,'

The request was simple, but the fog in Maria's mind instantly cleared.'

'No,' she drew back and shook her head fervently. 'This is exactly why I can't.' Maria pressed on before Arthur could respond, struggling to keep her head clear. 'You need to let go. Let go – of the nostalgia. We're not like that anymore – we can't go back.'

'You don't know that—'

'I do! You're not fourteen anymore. And I'm not twelve either. So just let go!'

'I've already let go of so much…'

Annoyance suddenly surged through Maria, and she attempted to soothe herself in the coolness of her drink before she spoke again.

'You're only thinking of yourself,' the laugh that escaped her lips was harsh and halfway to a sob. 'Have you stopped to think about what _I_ feel?'

Something akin to sheepishness flickered into Arthur's expression.

'You're right,' he admitted. 'What _do_ you feel?'

'Angry,' Maria notes his lack of surprise, then again she'd been nothing but obvious in not wanting to speak with him.

'Why are you angry?'

'Why wouldn't I be?' Arthur's patient expression infuriated her, and Maria could feel the controlled demeanour she'd always kept breaking down. 'Do I need to spell it out? I waited for years and nothing! It was like you never existed! But now you run out of options and turn to me? Do you think I don't realise I'm being used? It's insulting! It hurts!' Maria took a sharp breath as she realised what she'd let slip. 'And I don't care about you.'

Heat rushed into her cheeks and ears and Maria turned back to her beer.

'How many drinks have you had?' Arthur's voice sounded wary and distant, but she finished the glass and waved for another, disregarding the bar tender's frown.

'None of your business,' she hissed, hearing the rasp in her voice. 'Just leave me alone!'

She felt a hand on her shoulder as she downed as much beer as she could, but couldn't muster up the effort to shrug Arthur off.

'Let go of me!' Maria demanded, unsure if she'd spoken in German or English as her vision swam out of focus. 'I already told you to leave me alone!'

She finally found the force to bat at his hand, but the sudden motion threw off her balance and she instinctively grasped at his wrist to prevent herself from falling. Maria felt Arthur flinch and looked up at him, vision briefly refocusing. The look of concern he had was so similar to the worried expression he'd often had when he was younger. Breathing deeply and blinking a few times, Maria saw his face slide back into focus and stopped to examine the differences, too tired and inebriated to maintain her anger. Arthur's face was longer, his cheekbones higher, jaw line more squared, hair slightly darker – looking almost brown under the bar lights. His eyes were the same though, Maria thought vaguely, as deeply green as ever. She dragged her gaze away from his eyes, and as it refocused on his lips she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. _Stop it_ , the part of her mind that was still rational screamed, y _ou're not letting a pretty face sway you. You've faced plenty in court and won._ Her train of thought lost tangent and derailed, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to recapture it. A hand waved past her eyes and Maria realised she'd been staring at Arthur.

'You alright?' he asked.

'I'm perfectly fine,' she mumbled, not trusting herself to speak. Glancing at the half empty glass before her, Maria decided against finishing it. 'I should go.' She spoke as steadfastly as she could, belatedly remembering the case full of files she had yet to read and complete and fighting a wave of fatigue.

She swayed as she stood up, and Arthur caught her arm to steady her.

'You can't go alone,' he protested. 'Not like this.'

'Yes, I can,' Maria retorted stubbornly even as she let him guide her towards the exit with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. 'I don't need your help.' Arthur didn't reply, and nudged her away from the edge of a table.

 _Maria Giselle, pull yourself together!_ Maria tried to tell herself firmly as she found herself leaning into Arthur as she stumbled towards the door. Cold night air hit her as she stepped outside and she hoped her mind would clear. Detaching herself from Arthur, she swayed again – ankles feeling painfully weak in her heels as a gust of wind blew past them, and accepted his help without resistance. Light filled her vision, and following instructions to take a step, she was suddenly surrounded by warmth.

'Where do you need to go?'

The moments dragged on as she tried to comprehend the question she was asked, and by that time she couldn't bring herself to care, shaking her head and letting sleep overtake her.

The first thought Maria had when she awoke was that there was too much light. _I must be late for work_ , she thought as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to counter the immense pain pulsing behind them. Slowly, she forced her eyes open, finding herself in an unfamiliar room. Panic filled her as she realised she was in a hotel and began to remember the events of the previous night, the sour taste in her dry mouth intensifying and mingling with upwelling bile. _What have I done?_ _I slept with him, didn't I? No, no, no!_ Her panic abated as Maria came to the realisation that the discomfort against her neck was caused by the stiff collar of her work shirt, and that she was fully clothed. Ignoring complaints of her aching muscles and the pounding of her head, Maria sat up and examined her surroundings. The hotel room was not particularly large or small, and decorated tastelessly; evidently intended for economy business trips. Her briefcase rested atop the desk beside her, the smooth leather it was made of contrasting against the chipping wood laminate. On the opposite end of the room to the queen sized bed she was in, there was a couch that Maria could see Arthur asleep in – his arm dangling off the edge. A smile twitched at her lips and Maria threw aside the scratchy burnt orange blanket, finding her shoes placed neatly at the foot of the bed. She kicked the heels over and padded across the rough carpet barefoot, opening the drawers of the bedside desk as quietly as she could. She soon found the objects she was searching for, a pen and a pad of paper. Maria thought about what she could write and waited out a wave of dizziness and nausea before setting the pen to paper. _Thank you_ , she wrote, keeping the message simple. She took up several lines with her writing, ensuring it was legible despite the scratches in the ink and the visible shakiness from her hand. Replacing pen and pad in the drawer, Maria set the front sheet she'd torn off at the centre of desk – where it could not be missed. She shifted her position on the unevenly cushioned seat of the wooden chair and reached for the phone, glancing at Arthur as she did. He was still sleeping, and Maria took care to be as silent as possible as she dialled the number of her office.

'I'm afraid I'm not feeling too well today,' Maria winced at the hushed croak of her voice, but in the very least it helped her case. 'I won't be able to make it in. 'Please email me anything that needs to be done.'

She brushed off the concern on the other end with a comment about having spent too long in the chill and an assurance she would be fine by the next day. Hanging up the phone, Maria briefly closed her eyes against an increase of light from behind the curtains, then she retrieved her shoes, balanced herself upon the back of the chair as she fitted them on, lifted her briefcase from the desk and made for the door. Noting with satisfaction that the lock was automatic, Maria left herself out, took one last glance at Arthur, and closed the door softly behind her, the click of the lock ringing loudly in her ears. Heart racing, the blood that roared in her ears enhancing her headache, Maria paced quickly away. Her ankles threatened to twist beneath her and she slowed down as she found the elevators. Maria made it down the lobby and managed to walk out without giving anyone a second glance, determined not to appear too out of place. The part of the city she exited into was a place she was familiar with, and she began the long walk back to her apartment, avoiding the glare of the late morning light as much as she could.

A drink of water, painkillers and some fresh fruit leave Maria feeling capable of working. She sighed, rubbing at her temples as she waited for the full effects of the painkillers to kick in. She opened the briefcase and the rest of the day was spent between finishing the overdue paperwork and checking correspondence on her computer.

As the apartment darkened, Maria ate a light dinner, drank another glass of water and retired early to bed. She had been as productive as could, and the files were mostly in order.

Work went on as usual the following day – the brief concern of her colleagues soon subsided and everyone returned to their own business. Maria made herself a coffee, took a sip from it and set about checking over for any errors she may have made the previous day. She is one of the last to leave the office at five past six, smiling at Anneliese at the door, Maria headed out to make her way home. She made a detour to the park out of curiosity, wondering how Arthur would have reacted to the short message she'd left and entertaining the notion he would be waiting for her. To her surprise, she found him sitting on the bench, wearing a backpack and reading a book with a worn cover. He didn't seem to notice her as she approached – only closing the book once she sat down beside him on the opposite end of the bench.

'I'd hoped you'd come before I left,' Arthur said, keeping the distance between them. 'I was banking on you finishing work late.'

'Actually, this is around the time I usually finish,' Maria informed him.

'I was wondering if you were trying to avoid me when you didn't come this way yesterday,'

'I didn't go to work yesterday,' Maria winced at the memory of the hangover she'd had.

'Oh, that makes sense,' Arthur turned the book around in his hand, running a thumb over the edge of the pages. 'So I thought about what you said.' He cautiously made eye contact with her, and Maria struggled to remember what she possibly might have said to him. Something unkind, most likely, given the mood she'd been in that night.

'Yes?' She asked, still unable to recall what exactly she'd said.

'You were right,' he said ruefully. 'I am selfish, and I didn't think about how you felt. You've built up a whole life for yourself here, and I shouldn't have expected you to accept me into it. I'm sorry, Maria, I really am. For not writing, for everything. You deserved better, and I understand why you don't want me to be here. So I'm going back to Melbourne.'

'When?' Maria asked, still processing what Arthur had said. Processing the apology she'd been waiting to hear.

'Tonight,' Arthur replied simply.

'Didn't you buy a train ticket to Berlin?' Maria questioned, trying to find a reason for him not to leave without overtly saying so.

Arthur shook his head.

'I only bought a one-way ticket to Dresden,' he explained. 'I was planning to buy a train ticket at the station when I arrived here.'

'Have you bought your return ticket yet?'

'No,' Arthur admitted. 'But I'm sure I can get a last minute flight. Don't worry—'

'Then don't leave,' Maria interrupted him. She breathed in deeply and thought carefully about what she wanted to say. 'I been thinking too. You said you wanted us to work something out, and I'm willing to give you a chance.'

'I've already checked out of my hotel,' Arthur spoke with a regretful smile. 'Besides, I don't want us to fight again.'

'My apartment can fit two people,' Maria found herself saying. 'And how can you expect us to be friends again if we don't fight?' She inched slightly across the bench and tentatively held out a hand. 'Truce?'

'Truce,'

Arthur's hand was warm as he grasped her and Maria got up quickly to hide her smile.

During the short walk to Maria's apartment they managed a civil conversation.

'My couch is free,' Maria said as she unlocked the door, before remembering the state of her apartment – she'd lived alone for too long. 'Actually…'

Arthur had already seen the document covered couch as the door opened.

'It's okay,' he said with a smile and a shrug. 'I'll sleep on the floor.' Maria frowned at his statement, but didn't reply.

As a pot of peeled potatoes boiled away on the stove, Maria delved through her storage cupboard. In the carefree first few months after she'd graduated university, she'd bought a set of camping supplies, but the offer of internship came before she could plan a hiking trip and she'd been far too busy ever since. At the back of the cupboard was the air mattress she was searching for, old and bulky even uninflated. She dragged it out into the living room, turning off the stove as she passed the kitchen. Arthur turned his attention from the bookshelf he'd been examining to look at her curiously, and she laughed as she dropped it at his feet.

'Figure that out while I finish making dinner,' Maria said, content she hadn't knocked anything over and wiping at her brow. 'If it needs a pump, there's one behind the couch from when I used to have a bike.'

'What happened to your bike?' Arthur asked, dumbfounded as she returned to the kitchen.

'It got stolen,' Maria called behind her. 'That was _years_ ago, I just haven't gotten around to clearing out things I never use. Lucky you.'

They ate a meal of vegetables and cold meat in comfortable silence. Arthur had managed to inflate the mattress and Maria found him a spare blanket and pillow after they'd finished eating.

'Goodnight,' she said after she picked out the documents she needed from the couch.

'This early?' Arthur frowned at the clock. 'It's barely nine.'

Maria shrugged at him, already leaving the room.

'I'm going to finish some work first; you do whatever you want,'

She shut the door to the living room after she re-entered the kitchen, setting her paperwork on the cleared table and moving to do the dishes with a sigh. With the dishes drying beside the sink, Maria sat down at the table and finished up the last few pieces of documentation for the case which would be going to court soon. A few finishing touches here and there, and finally Maria was happy with the level of the work she'd done. She yawned, collected everything into her briefcase, switched of the kitchen light and headed into the bathroom.

It was around seven the next morning when the jangling of her keys woke Arthur – Maria had hesitated at the door, wondering if she should awaken her guest, and now it was a decision she didn't need to wake.

'You're up early,' he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

'I always leave for work at this time,' Maria pushed the door back to a shut.

'Must be a long work day then,' Arthur said with a yawn, blinking at he looked at her.

'It is,' Maria confirmed. 'So I best be leaving. There's scrambled eggs and bread in the kitchen, and spare house keys by the door. Don't touch anything.' She added, gesturing at the couch. She'd already locked her bedroom door so she had nothing else to worry about. 'I'll be back sometime before seven.'

At the office Maria gave her files to the colleague who would be taking the case to court and accepted the next case. After a mostly uneventful day she unlocked the door of her apartment at exactly a quarter to seven. Arthur quickly replaced one of her books back into its place on her shelf and turned to greet her.

'How was work?'

'The same as it always is,' Maria shrugged, locked the door and dropped her briefcase on the couch out of habit despite having made a mental note to clear it. 'What did you get up to?'

'Well I didn't make dinner, seeing as I'm a pretty bad cook,'

Maria looked over at Arthur with fond amusement.

'I didn't ask you to,' she laughed lightly.

'But I felt like I should have, seeing as I'm just crashing at your place,'

'I invited you,'

'I guess, but you were asking what I'd been up to,'

'That's right,' Maria conceded warily, eyeing Arthur's knowing expression.

'I went on a walk and found a bakery,' he told her. 'And they had these giant soft pretzels –'

' _Brezeln_ ,' Maria corrected, despite enjoying the story. 'That's what they're called.' She explained when Arthur looked at her with confusion. 'But go on.'

'They had them in lots of flavours and I was curious, so I bought a pretzel— err _Brezeln_?' he paused to await confirmation from Maria.

' _Brezel,_ singular,' Maria spoke after nodding. 'Your pronunciation wasn't bad though.'

'Thank you. It was delicious, so I went back and bought more. They're in the kitchen now.'

'Is this why you were going on about not having made dinner?'

Maria laughed lightly and Arthur smiled at her.

'It is,' he admitted. 'I mean, they're pretty filling.'

'They are,' Maria agreed, walking past Arthur to enter the kitchen

Throwing together a salad with whatever greens she could find in her fridge, Maria set the practical plastic bowl onto the table and sat down beside Arthur. She picked up a _Brezel_ and tore off a piece, spreading softened butter onto the exposed part of the bread, before taking a bite. Having cooled for a few hours, the crust was no longer crisp and the texture was slightly chewy, but Maria was used to leaving items of food to go cold while she was working.

'So what kind of journalism did you do?' she asked, realising that despite all the heated conversations they'd had in the last few days, she and Arthur had not spoken much about their recent lives.

Arthur shrugged, wiping his hands on a napkin before he answered.

'I wrote political articles for a newspaper,' he told her. 'It wasn't the hardest job; there was always something or another happening in that field.'

'Naturally,' Maria spoke as she rolled her eyes and easy laughter followed, before she let Arthur continue.

'The downside was, that it was so easy to write about, that even major news corporations decided to cut jobs after the markets started going south.'

Maria nodded sympathetically, knowing she'd been mostly unaffected by the recent instability of the markets.

'I hear that the future of journalism is online,' she said as she absently tore herself another piece of soft pretzel. 'Have you tried looking around on there?'

'Not yet,' Arthur shook his head. 'I have heard that, I just…' He paused, searching for the right words. 'I didn't do much after I lost my job, I kind of sat around drinking, feeling sorry for myself and reminiscing. Which is actually how I ended up reading your letter – admittedly, sixteen years too late.'

He seemed to be bracing himself for her reaction, but Maria had finally put that behind her. It was nice – she'd discovered – to have someone around who wasn't just a colleague she only interacted with in the long hours she spent at work.

'Well,' she said sagely, filling her plate with salad. 'Better late than never.'

There was relief in the smile Arthur gave her, but she smiled back nonetheless.

'How about you?' he asked. 'What's being a lawyer like?'

'It can be… Difficult at times,' Maria confessed, swallowing a mouthful of greens. 'But the difference you make in the world is worth it, finding a way to help people who are vulnerable and exploited…' She trailed off, nodding to herself.

'It's always best to work for something you're passionate about. It sounds like you're doing really well.'

From the corner of her eye Maria could see Arthur looking at her softly, and something fluttered in her chest. Forcing herself to remain focused on the subject at hand, Maria replied:

'Yes, I guess have,' she prodded at her plate with her fork, thinking back onto her achievements. 'I have been promoted twice over the last five years, and this latest case I've been given offers an opportunity for a breakthrough.'

'I think you work too hard,' upon seeing Maria's frown, Arthur elaborated. 'From what I've noticed since I've been here – you work long hours, and when you get back home you stay up till late doing more work, then you get up early and repeat the whole process again.'

'I never said it wasn't a tough job,' Maria shrugged her shoulders slightly, not acknowledging whether or not he was right.

'Still,' Arthur countered. 'You should relax more.'

He waited for a response, but Maria merely shrugged again, and the meal continued without further conversation.

When Arthur offered to help her wash the dishes, Maria agreed. He was right about her working too much, and perhaps she should take his advice to relax.

'I did offer to do the dishes outright,' he said wryly as she began scrubbing plates and utensils with detergent – the leftover salad covered with Clingfilm and placed into the fridge.

'I know,' Maria replied with some amusement. 'But you don't know how I wash my dishes, or where to put them back once you've dried them either.'

'That's fair,' Arthur conceded, his hand brushing against hers as he began to rinsing the items she'd scrubbed.

Later, Maria restricted herself to an hour of reading through paperwork. She spent the next while sorting and removing various documents from her couch. Arthur stood by her bookshelf, chuckling as he flicked through the only English books she had – children's books she'd brought with her when she'd left Australia.

'I can't believe you still have these,' he said as he put one back and picked up another. ' _Far Out, Brussel Sprout!, Unreal, Banana Peel!_ … I can remember what happened to mine, I think I left them behind when I moved into the city.'

'Oh yes,' Maria paused in her stacking of folders. 'I just liked the twisted humour too much to leave it behind. There was one that went something like this that always stuck with me:

 _Mama, mama! What's that? It looks like strawberry jam!  
Oh no, said mama. That's papa, who's been hit by a tram!_'

She laughed as Arthur chuckled again, shaking her head at the memory. 'It was so morbid it was funny. Can you believe that was our first exposure to poetry at school?'

'That one's quite dark,' he said. 'But then again, the one I remember best isn't much better – it goes:

 _We three kings of the orient are,  
Sitting on a rubber cigar.  
It was loaded and exploded-  
Silent night.'_

Maria snorted, forgetting about clearing the couch all together.

'Is that one from the book you're holding?' she asked. 'I remember you showing me that exact, a week after you bought the book. You thought it was hilarious then.'

'I still do,' Arthur skimmed through the pages then looked up regretfully. 'Not in this one, but I did find the one with "If we cantaloupe" that took me a few years to understand.'

'Ah, If we _can't elope_ ,' Maria nodded, she'd gone back over to the couch and was continuing to sort everything into piles. 'Took me a while to get that one too.'

The night proceeded with Maria reorganising the papers she'd taking from the couch into various storage places around the house as Arthur occasionally read some of their favourite childhood poems aloud and causing both of them to break down into laughter.

'Alright, good night,' Maria said, stifling a yawn after everything had been put into an appropriate place.

'By that do you mean you're going to work until you fall asleep?' Arthur asked with some dubiousness.

'No,' Maria replied blithely, affected by the laughter and nostalgia of that night. 'I'm going to sleep.' She grinned. 'Taking your advice and relaxing a bit.' And with another playful smile, she turned around and left for her room.

By the time the weekend came, they had falling into a pattern of lightly teasing each other like they'd done as children. Something had changed though – lingering touches, gazes held for a moment too long, and brief failures to remember personal space – and Maria hoped it she was the only one who'd noticed, that would soon pass. It wasn't the case however, as Arthur looked at her seriously over the breakfast they were having together for the first time.

'I've been wondering,' he began hesitantly, and Maria signalled for him to continue. She didn't like his sudden caution, but she swallowed the bread she was chewing and washed down the dryness in her throat with apple juice. 'What _is_ our relationship now?'

Maria frowned; this was a conversation she'd been hoping to avoid. Arthur must have mistaken the frown as one of confusion as he pressed on hurriedly, words blending together in a rush.

'Surely you've noticed how we— I don't know how to put this delicately but… You're so beautiful and sma—'

'Stop,' Maria looked away and pushed her chair from the table. 'That's enough.'

'Oh. I guess I it was just me.' Arthur looked discomfited. 'I'm sorry, I read too much into things. I wasn't going to push you though—'

'No,' Maria looked at him firmly, unwaveringly deciding what she had to say. 'It wasn't just you who noticed.' She admitted. 'But; relationships need trust and friendship to work – and we're still working on those.'

'Right,' Arthur looked as though he was about to say something else, but instead pushed his plate away.

'So,' Maria broke the awkward silence that had fallen between them after she'd placed her emptied breakfast plate into the sink. Arthur handed her the late he'd used, and she set it into the sink carefully as well. 'How much of Dresden have you seen?'

'Not very much,' Arthur looked relieved at the change of subject. 'I've been too worried about getting lost to walk too far away from here. Not to mention how much there is to see here.'

'Well then,' Maria spoke with a smile that was also an invitation. 'Seeing I don't have to work today.' She slipped her hand into Arthur's. 'I'll show you the city.'

* * *

 **I know the ending still leaves some things unresolved, but if you want to know what happens afterwards this is what I imagine:**

 **After a few years of semi-platonic dating, Arthur proposes. Maria agrees, but keeps her name not only because she's just the type to do so, but also because she's become pretty well known in law circles and she doesn't want people not to recognise her after she gets married. Arthur is the editor of some online news site. They go that hiking trip Maria always wanted to. 10 years later (which is actually the present day, haha) they have two kids - energetic, curious Jack and reserved, inquisitive Luise, and despite Arthur protesting, Maria insists on showing the kids the place where they grew up together. So they take a trip to Australia and while they're in Mildura, they run into an old lady in the supermarket who recognises Arthur. Turns out it's his mum and she coos over her grandkids (especially how much Jack looks like her) despite being slightly disappointed at not having been invited to the wedding. Arthur's dad isn't too happy about the whole thing, but he has to accept his son has grown up and is secretly grateful he got to see him again. All in all, everyone lived happily ever after.**

 **^as you can see; very self indulgent and doesn't fit the theme. Plus, writing it would have made this thing way to long.**

 **Other notes:**

 **\- Brezeln are exactly as Arthur described, giant soft pretzels**

 **\- The poetry books are not made up, most Australian kids read them in primary school (though thinking back I wonder how the teachers thought they were appropriate)**

 **\- the poems that got read out were the ones that I could remember from the top of my head. Which says a lot about me as I person I guess... (okay, the strawberry jam one haunted me, but I thought the other one was hilarious)**

 **\- that about all the explaining I think I need to do, if you're confused about anything else, just ask about it in a review and I'll clear it up**


End file.
